Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Wood

The rich element of wood surrounded us as we drove north on Interstate Five towards Oregon.  The abundance of evergreens that grows in Oregon starts here in the northern part of California near Mt. Lassen.

Mt.Lassen1

Besides the Sequoia Redwoods that grow a few miles east of Woodlake, the Redwoods offered tree displays that exist nowhere else in the world.

SFW Klamath trips Sept 18 to 19136

Once logged, only imagination limits what wood will become.

oregon trip 201320130913_1167201

Wood protects our heads from Oregon moisture while at the same time moves us to tears.

oregon trip 201320130913_0090116Families build memories at tables made of wood.  Myrtle wood grows only in Southern Oregon and Israel.  We stopped at the North Bend Myrtlewood Factory to see the array of Myrtlewood products.

cees-fun-foto1I hope you enjoyed this post, and it didn’t seem too wooden to you.  :)  Thanks Cee for the inspiration. To see more entries, click the icon above.

 

44 thoughts on “Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Wood”

    1. Yes, and whatever happened to our phone/video conversation? I am feeling much better now, BTW. I’m not 100%, but today about 95%. This has been the longest cold I’ve ever had! V is one day ahead of me, so I can judge what the next day will be. He’s had two good days now, so I think we’re done with it! :)

      Like

    1. Of course, Viveka. No one has more brilliant entries than you do. I wasn’t very active on WP during the last months of my CCSS reign as Pres. Now I’m excited to say I have a contract with Arcadia to write a book (pictorial history of Woodlake.) That’s going to keep me hopping, gathering pictures and ideas, and meeting deadlines. I’m loving it, though! :)

      Like

      1. Good for you …. I wish I had the patience and the head for writing a book. You have the head … and you have the passion. Good luck with your assignment!
        Thank you so for you kind words about my posts – the challenges are a great way to use up all the images I’m sitting on and not so much words are needed.

        Like

  1. Thoroughly enjoyed this. Not too “wooden” at all ;)

    I really found that table quite fascinating and intriguing. Perfect place for a squirrel to perch, munching some peanuts, next to a wee toad, who is pondering existence with a glinting golden eye reflecting the ashy light of an alpine dawn. There, sitting at the table is an hoary, rather philosophical fellow reading some Spinoza as he sups his early-morning mint tea. Yes. I see that table in this little mountain cabin with this snowy man and his Spinoza and the squirrel’s name is Toulouse and the toad is called Sagan. Really like that scene. Thank you for creating it here in your blog. Fabulous!

    smiling toad

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Has to be one. With all the torment I put him through, he must very frequently ask such questions, “Why me? Why do I exist to endure these terrible trials, inflicted by this horrid bully offspring? Why? WHY?”

        I will now, ahem, furnish you with an example of what drives him to these fomenting existential states of mind.

        An innocent day at the park.

        “Sir!” I startled him, “how about we go placidly feed the birds at the park for a little while?”

        Sir should know better by now that I never do anything “placidly.” He never learns.

        “Yes! Great idea Babs!” he said beginning to get up as I zoomed out the door and was already dashing down the street, bread and camera in hand.

        The park was glittering when we arrived. It was maturing afternoon and the light was rich and luxurious. The grass looked like a pool of shimmering gold. And then an idea struck me. A “brilliant” idea.

        I sometimes question my sanity…but always in hindsight I am afraid…

        “SIR!” I cried.

        He jerked.

        “What, the birds are over there. Why are we going here?” he asked befuddled and attempting to throw bread at the distant birds.

        “This is the perfect place to do some stunt-falling!” I cried.

        As you can imagine, Sir was not fond of this idea.

        “Oh…and who is going to be doing this ‘stunt-falling’ dare I ask?” came a slow, wary voice of Sir.

        “You of course! It will make a brilliant film!” I cried completely oblivious of the fact that we were at a public park and falling all over the place not only might seem a bit strange, but may also cause alarm. None of this entered my mind. I didn’t even notice that there were people there at all. Just squirrels and birds.

        I handed Sir the camera so I could show him how to do a proper run into a dramatic flailing fall.

        I walked all the way back to a tree and then sprinted at Sir. Alarmed Sir began to back away. Suddenly I went catapulting, spinning and ricocheting off the ground, right into Sir.

        I vaguely heard someone gasp. It wasn’t Sir.

        I flew to my feet.

        “Easy,” I said, “that’s how it’s done.”

        Sir’s eyes widened in terror, “I’ll die…there’s no WAY I could do that!”

        I hate it when people restrict themselves and don’t believe in themselves.

        “SURE YOU CAN!” I said with encouragement and enthusiasm, “I’ll show you again.”

        I repeated the act, this time not actually bashing into Sir.

        He trembled as I took the camera back, shouted “ROLLING!” and waited for the action to begin.

        There was no action.

        Sir drizzled into the world’s slowest “run” I had ever witnessed. He shook back and forth like someone who was ill, and shuffle-shuffle-paused-shuffle-shuffle-paused across the stretch of grass toward the camera. It was as if he had an imaginary walker to help him creak along…Then, before the fall, he stopped completely. Then tipped over like a body in advanced rigor.

        The he cheeped in “great agony” as he sprawled there.

        I filmed the scene as he looked very much like a corpse and then said, “Time for another take! More speed and energy this time! Don’t be afraid, it’s easy! YOU CAN DO IT!” I didn’t say “champ” at the end, but it would have been apt.

        He tried again. Slower this time remarkably. When he fell, it was like a stiff barrel had been knocked over. Then, once he was safe on the ground, he attempted to flail as if he had hit the ground violently. Then he was a corpse again.

        It was at this time that I had finally noticed a crowd had gathered, gawking in what seemed to be disbelief and vague fear. I smiled and waved and said something nice about the weather. Then, as a squirrel smelled peanuts in my pockets and began to climb, I spotted something red and shiny flying across the field.

        “SIR!” I said, “There’s a lad over there with a pet-drone! That stern figure next to him seems to be the father. Go check it out! Maybe they will let you fly it!’

        Sir was still trying to get up.

        “I don’t think that is a good idea…” he muttered, grabbing the bread and beginning to limp toward birds.

        “No it will be wonderful! Trust me!”

        He didn’t trust me.

        “In the name of science, Sir!” I beseeched, “You’ve told me over and over you’ve always wanted to look one over!”

        It didn’t take much. He started off, muttering, “What are they going to think, this strange guy just walking up to them, asking about the kid’s flying toy…”

        I attended to the squirrels and suddenly Sir had returned.

        “The kid was going to let me fly it but the dad wasn’t too happy about this. He ushered the kid and the drone quickly off to safety. It was a bust…” Sir mumbled.

        That was right when a mob of little pond turtles with lemon-yellow eyes had come upon us. We were near the water and the turtles saw the bread and were so excited that some were getting out to personally barrage us.

        We began to fling bread. The turtles returned to the water to happily munch the soggy viands.

        Then…another “great” idea struck me.

        “SIR!” I cried.

        Sir began to walk away. I blocked him like an aggressive cinder-block. Sir stopped, his head drooping in defeat, “What?”

        “That turtle!” I bugled.

        “What about it?” he asked, clearly suffering.

        “He is the perfect turtle to hold!” I said.

        “HOLD?!” Sir expostulated suddenly.

        “Yes, he looks quite friendly and he keeps looking up at you endearingly! Look, he’s doing it to you now!”

        The flattery of the turtle’s admiration for him did impress him.

        “I’m not going to do it!” he said resolutely.

        One minute later, as I bugled, “ROLLING!” Sir was kneeling down and sprinkled bread toward the wee creature. Then Sir shot forward and the turtle was suddenly in his hands, dripping with a furry green algae-bearded shell beaming in the sunlight. A massive grin spread across Sir’s face. The wee turtle looked a bit surprised.

        Suddenly, I heard all these whoops and giggles and cries of joys, little voices squealing, “Turtle turtle! Look mommy that man has a turtle!”

        I turned in horror…there were a million young humans trying to rush forth, but there was a line of stern parents were trying to harness them back.

        “Sir, you are about to be in trouble. I didn’t, er, realize there were so many witnesses to this crime you’ve just committed disturbing these innocent little turtles,” I said.

        The turtle was instantly free as a terrified Sir’s shot away, and then he just sat there, shaking with fear.

        The little pond turtle slid back into the water, swiveled around, and began to stare up at Sir again in deep admiration whilst munching bread as if nothing had happened.

        The parents finally managed to herd the sea of noisy immature humans away. How petulant they were! I cannot imagine how terrible it must be to be plagued by a riotous, mutinous and obnoxious offspring all the time…

        Other frozen dog-walkers managed to unglue themselves and disperse as well. It seemed my smiling at them and greeting them was swift to dislodge them.

        Well, we got away with the crime and Sir finally got to “placidly” feed the ibises, who honked with delight as he came waddling up, bread in hand.
        ;)

        Smiling toad

        Like

      2. Oh my, what a story! Talk about offspring! Poor Sir. The things you do to that poor man, it’s amazing he doesn’t say no before you open your mouth! So did you pull all of that together in a video? You have such talent I’m surprised you don’t have clients calling to do family or sports videos or something. You do an amazing job creating them!!!

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Can you believe all of that transpired over the course of an hour? That is just one hour’s worth of trouble I can conjure up…POOOOR pooor Sir…

        Thank you, you are too wonderful. :D Har har my terror is what thwarts me. I have a lot more to learn and improve upon.

        Cheers!!

        ST

        Like

      1. We know what the title would be ;)

        Perhaps I shall put that together in the next few days. It is surprising how many posts I tend to write in your blog….much more than I do on my own blog!! :D

        Thank you for the encouragement. Cheers,

        ST

        Liked by 1 person

      2. It is fun to have feedback. I like writing to someone. Then your blog has meaning and purpose. You visualize who you are communicating with. When you write to me, you are telling me a specific incident or philosophizing because you know I will read it and respond. When you blog, at first, you don’t know who will respond. After a while, I think you have the audience in mind as you write each post.. :) You’ve been doing it as long as I have, though, so I’m not telling you anything new! :)

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Aye, I think you are quite write ;) One formulates an “ideal reader” as Stephen King likes to ramble on about. You tend to be mine, especially of anything of a more chortling nature. I thank you. I think another reason is that I think of you as a dear chum, and I just get inspired whenever I visit your blog: your humour inspires me to write a “little” something in return that I hope will make you feel a bit of the contentment I felt in my visit. Just need to condense. Good golly, this latest “wee little anecdote” (I was thinking in my poor delirious mind as I was fast typing away) was some sort of time-gobbling, long-winded excerpt from some kind of bizarre and stuffy novel written by some odd old grannie rocking away out on some purple mountaintop somewhere, scribbling down her memoirs, her silvered locks tossing frantically in her wizened face, getting all tangled up in her thick, globule glasses- still she writes away unperturbed… Anyhow, thank you for writing this blog, for being a lovely friend, and for being so obliging, poor lass. Pooooor Marsha…I should say ;) Cheers,

        Autumn Jade

        Liked by 1 person

      4. I am not poor at all. All bloggers live, in part, for the comments. Why else would we blog, and not just keep a journal. My journals are not nearly so fun as my blogs because when someone says I am the least bit funny or interesting, I am interested in going just a bit more the next time. Yes, it bolsters me to read the comments. So keep them coming. Not to mention they are sometimes funnier than the post itself. :)

        Liked by 1 person

      5. Well, I REALLY enjoy your humour so keep it coming lassie!!! I always enjoy me visits here in this sanctuary of chortles, life, adventure, history and photography- and I also just love your poetry, as well. Smiling cheers,

        olde toad

        Liked by 1 person

      6. You’d better get a double dose of LM. You’re morphing, I tell you. The old you is sloughing off, and the new you is sweet and frothy! :) I bet you have ribbons in your hair, and a pretty ruffly dress on. :)

        Like

      7. I despise youtube…type in “crocodile”, which is SUPPOSED to be the most terrifying predator in the world, and all YT spits out is a myriad of adorable videos…there was even a bloody thing showing a saltwater crocodile surfing…HMPH!!!!

        Liked by 1 person

Your babbling is music to my ears. Please leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s